Do NOT have surgery for a bent penis

by Paul
(London, UK)

It's almost with tears in my eyes that I write this.

Here follows a self-indulgent summary of my own experience in the matter of bent penis surgery. The worst decision I ever made.

In the mid/late 90s, as a bullied and I guess rather mentally weak teenager, I was mortified to discover that my penis was developing a curve. I was simply unable to contemplate the potential humiliation that I perceived would occur if this information were to become known to my social circles. This was back in the late 90s and the amazing resource that is the internet was only just starting to take off. If I were in the same position today, the catastrophe of thoughts and actions that I allowed myself to pursue would have been averted within 10minutes of Googling. But it wasn't now. It was then, and all I had for counsel on this matter initially was my own thoughts.

My thoughts were telling me:- you must be the only person who has this problem- you are a freak- you must not let anyone find out

... all of which, I can see clearly with hindsight, were 100% wrong.

I remember doing very strange things in desperation to try and recover the situation. When nothing seemed to work and I had no idea what to do, I decided to go and see my local doctor. I had just turned 18.

I had discovered the term Peyronies disease from watching a late night phone in show on TV and announced to my doctor that I thought I had this condition. She soon advised me that this was not the case but did not have ANY of the useful advice or guidance that can be found on this excellent website. The only thing she was able to offer was putting me in touch with a consultant and with very little discussion I agreed and the appointment was made. Despite my doctors protest, I was adamant that my parents should know nothing of this. I felt it was my own personal shame and now I was 18, I would fight the battle myself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Anyway I left the doctors and went on my way.

At first I was absolutely elated that I had shared this problem with someone. A problem that I'd contained and lingered on for 3 or 4 years. I recall screaming with relief whilst driving home. Literally screaming.

After that I just became nervous about what the appointment might hold.

The day of the appointment arrived and having rather un-subtley excused myself from a family dinner, I requested to borrow my mother's car for a secret trip and I made my way to the specified location. The consultant mostly worked in the private medical arena rather than the NHS (free health service here in Britain). The private side of things is of course lucrative and the consultant had clearly earned a LOT of money. The appointment was in a converted wing of his rather impressive house in a very sought after location. An unusual setting to drive into. For example, I was greeted by his wife rather than a hospital nurse.

Ironically and symbolically (in my head anyway), this grand house was directly opposite the house of a girl that I was interested in and had been recently flirting with and things were going quite well really. However things had stalled with the girl on the basis of my absolute paralysing fear that someone should find out my secret.

Anyway, back to the appointment. The first thing the consultant needed to do was to establish the scale of the problem. He enquired if I'd managed to bring a photo of my erect penis (...perhaps he was also a catholic priest - hah!). Digital cameras didn't exist the way they do now so, no, I did not have this photo as I did not care to attempt to get such a photo developed at the local photographic shop. The option that I had to submit to was an injection straight into the side of my penis. A rather horrific thing to endure, but not a patch on things that were to come later in this story.

The consultant determined that yes there was a bend and yes he was able to provide surgery to restore this.

Now, to be honest, I forget some of the precise details of who said what, when. However, I'm pretty sure that:- the technical process of shortening one side of the penis was explained- at no point was the potential for nerve damage or other ill effects really underlined- at no point was an alternative option discussed (e.g. counselling)

I was soon booked in for the hospital appointment where the surgery would take place.

On the weekend of the surgery, I decided that I had to tell my parents and somehow managed to get through that awkward conversation. I probably didn't provide all the information about what was to occur, largely because I didn't really know. So I managed to convince my bemused mother to take me to the hospital.

Once in the hospital bed, various medical staff popped in and out of my room on the side of the ward. I had no idea how many of them knew the details of my visit. Soon enough I was on my way to the theatre and the general anaesthetic was administered.

Obviously, the next conscious thoughts I had were when I finally awoke after the surgery.

Things I remember thinking:

- oh my god, I've been entirely shaved down there- oh my god, my penis is so incredibly swollen (it was about the girth and consistency of a very well filled burrito!)- oh my god, there is a tube up my penis (something about blood drainage I think)- oh my god, there are stitches around the top of my penis- oh my god, it really is quite uncomfortable

I was massively unprepared for all of that.

I also thought, "I need a wee" and promptly got out of bed, stilly pretty delirious from the anaesthetic. Somehow I stumbled through the ward, in some significant discomfort and made it to the toilet. It was perhaps around then that I noticed how horrifically bruised my entire penis looked. Upon reflection over the following years, that bruising is hardly surprising given what had gone on.

To spell out the procedure, in my own terms,- a incision is made just below the head of the penis on the underside (the most sensitive area, well prior to surgery that is)- the outer skin is rolled back revealing the two tubes that provide the main structure- one of the tubes is shortened by removing a section from the middle, thereby removing the curve- everything is sewn back up

A pretty traumatic set of events for the most sensitive organ on your body to undergo.

For weeks after, the swelling remained. As did the stitches. I still recall the first horrible moment, soon after the surgery, when I realised that I was going to get an erection - just through the normal everyday flow of these things. With the state I was in, that was the last thing I needed but there was of course nothing I could do to stop it.

Jumping forward a couple of weeks, eventually the stitches were removed and that was it. I was done. Except for several months of recuperation.

The result? A marginally less bent penis. This, along with:- radically reduced feeling in the head of the penis- more or less permanent discomfort (mild but persistent). Still to this day. Permanent, mild discomfort- an awkward ridge where the skin was sewn back together (prevents easy application of condoms)- a very obvious and visible scar around the top of the penis- concealed scar tissue (big knots) where things were sewn back up on the side of the penis that was shortened- slightly difficulties when peeing, mostly from an aim perspective!

Of course, this process, rather than helping my insecurities, simply re-inforced them and I'm sad to say that I continued to allow that to rule my life. Even to this day, 18 years later. Aside from a few drunken fumblings, I'm still terrified to reveal myself and so have had very little sex.

Once upon a time, I was a perfectly healthy teenager who simply felt like a freak. Through allowing myself to belief in that idea and following through with such radical measures, I have manufactured the freak.

These are the terrible things that happen when you allow your life to be dominated by weakness. Your judgement is affected and poor decision making follows. I've turned a a corner in this regard and hope to soon be back in the land of relationships and to salvage some kind of sex life from the dying embers of my youth.